


mimicry

by arsenicjay



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Related, First Meetings, Gen, Volleyball
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-18 11:49:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsenicjay/pseuds/arsenicjay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>The other person turns, and Akaashi jerks back from where he’d been about to touch their shoulder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>That’s— that’s not Bokuto. Who is it?</em>
</p><p>(In which Akaashi meets Semi Eita at Nationals, and there's a slight case of mistaken identity.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	mimicry

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks as always, to auberjean for beta.

_Go find Bokuto-kun_ , had been the instructions from their coach.

Easier said than done, Akaashi thinks with a touch of despair as he hurries around Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, searching for the familiar sight of Bokuto's wild, bleached hair and tell-tale raucous voice.

High above the gymnasium, the mezzanine is packed with students, supporters and the media alike. Nationals have been running the entire week, and now they're all gathered here for the semi-finals, eager to catch a glimpse of the upcoming stars of the volleyball world.

On the courts down behind him Akaashi can hear yells from either team rising up into the air, accompanied with the regular _smack_ of the ball onto the hardwood floor. Fukurodani had won their bracket yesterday, and they won't be playing until later this afternoon. As for himself, he's only been on court a few times since the start of Nationals; to be fair though, as a mere first-year it’s more than he’d expected.

As Akaashi weaves through the crowd, he escapes relatively unnoticed aside from a few unwitting jabs from people passing by. It seems like Bokuto has picked a rather inconvenient time to be elusive – with the current match coming to a close, the roar of the crowd gets louder and Akaashi nearly gets caught in the push of people, surging down to watch from the edge of the mezzanine railings.

“Yo, Akaashi. You lost or something?”

He hears a loud voice over the cacophony before he feels the hand grabbing the back of his jersey and yanking him out of the crowd. Akaashi twists around, hopeful, but then he sees Konoha wave at him, looking somewhat amused at his predicament.

“Konoha-san,” Akaashi says, drawing closer to make his voice heard over the noise. “Have you seen Bokuto-san? Coach told me to search for him–”

“Nope. Haven't seen any sign of him.” Konoha pauses, looking thoughtful, then jerks a thumb towards the stairwell. “He probably wandered outside or something. He does that sometimes, reckons he needs clear his head a little.”

Akaashi feels a stab of dismay. There’s no telling where Bokuto will be if he’s gone outside. Out of all of the members on Fukurodani team, Bokuto might be the jewel in the crown – but he also manages to be the most _troublesome._

He jogs down the stairs, coming out into the cooler air of the main foyer with a breath of relief. Where the main courts had been thrumming with a thick, tense energy that was almost palpable, the crowd is thinner here, the drone of voices quieter. It should be easier to find Bokuto here, Akaashi thinks as he rises up onto his toes in an attempt to see over the sea of heads, squinting.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a familiar glimpse of streaked hair, turned away and walking towards the corridor to the bathrooms, and relief floods through him.

“Bokuto-san,” Akaashi calls out, quickening his steps. “There you are– they called for us at the marshalling area, we need to go–”

The other person turns, and Akaashi jerks back from where he’d been about to touch their shoulder.

That’s– that’s not Bokuto. Who is it?

“Sorry,” the other boy says, after a moment. “I think you have the wrong person?”

Akaashi stares, his words deserting him. At first glance, it's easy to see why he’d assumed that this might be Bokuto: tell-tale hair, bleach-white shot through with black, and messy in itself. An obvious clue, anyone would think. But that’s where the similarities end, Akaashi realises – he’s shorter for one, with fierce, sharp eyes that drag over his appearance in obvious scrutiny, and thin lips turned down into a slight frown.

Where Bokuto is broad and powerful, this boy is lithe and fine-featured. A stray thought wanders into Akaashi's mind – that, if it weren’t for that wrinkle of confusion marring his brow, he might be considered attractive.

“I think so, yes.” Akaashi ducks into a bow, flushing; in all likelihood, the other boy is older than him. “Apologies, I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” A pause. “Your uniform is from Fukurodani, isn’t it?”

Akaashi blinks, glancing down at his own jersey. Stark white, highlighted with gold and black bands glare up at him. “Yes. I’m a setter for the Fukurodani team." He pauses. "Not the main setter though.”

For some reason, that graces him with a smile from the other boy, one that’s not exactly kind, but not quite unfriendly either. “First year? What a coincidence," he says, his voice mild. "I’m the main setter for Shiratorizawa. We’ll be facing off in the afternoon rounds, I think.”

It's a competitive smile, Akaashi realises. One that’s sizing him up.

“I hope we can have a good match,” he replies dutifully, just as he hears someone holler,

“Akaashi! Hey, Akaashi! What are you doing, everyone’s at the marshalling area already, you’re _late-_ –”

Akaashi glances past the other boy to see Bokuto jogging up to them, looking gleeful at first (probably at having caught him out, he thinks with a note of irritation), and then apparently surprised, slowing down when he takes in the sight of both of them, blinking between.

“Oh. What? Hey, who’s this?” Bokuto sidesteps around to Akaashi’s side, resting an arm on his shoulder as he leans in to scrutinise the other boy, who looks a little taken aback. “What are you doing with our setter?”

“What do– he came up to me,” the other boy says. He straightens up, stiffening, and his frown takes an affronted twist. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“But I bet you were gonna,” Bokuto says, narrowing his eyes. “What school are you from, huh? Who are you?”

“Semi Eita. I’m Shiratorizawa’s main setter,” the boy answers, sounding a little testy now. He raises his chin and crosses his arms.

Akaashi feels Bokuto jolt against his side at the response. “What! That’s Ushiwaka’s–” is the only part of the loud accusation that Bokuto manages to get out before Akaashi is hastily covering his mouth. Sometimes, just sometimes, Akaashi wishes that Bokuto would put his thoughts before his words; upsetting a setter from another National-level team right before their match ranks rather high on his list of _not good ideas._

Semi levels them with a cool stare, scrutinising and impossible to decipher, as Akaashi fights to keep a struggling Bokuto under control.

“We should go, Bokuto-san,” he says lightly, removing his hand (eurgh, slightly damp) from Bokuto’s mouth. He wipes his palm on the edge of Bokuto's shirt, as discretely as possible. “Coach will be waiting for us.”

“Bokuto?” Semi suddenly asks, as realisation apparently dawns. He tilts his head in interest now. “As in, Fukurodani’s ace?”

Predictable as always, Bokuto puffs up at the mention, chest thrust out and hands on his hips. “Yup! You’ve heard of me then?”

“Yeah, of course,” is Semi’s only reply. But there’s a calculative gleam in his eyes now.

Akaashi decides that he doesn’t like it; that’s the kind of look more suited to when they’re already sweating on court, eyeing each other down on either side of the net with exhaustion setting into their bones, and both teams tense with a match point.

“We really should go,” he says as he urges Bokuto, who has gone silent in a rare moment of contemplation, to step back.

That’s the problem with these places, gathering extraordinarily competitive teams from around Japan all together under one roof; it breeds all sorts of rivalries before they even get on court. He pulls at Bokuto’s arm one more time, and this time Bokuto relents, twisting on his heel before striding away, clearly determined to head back into the main gymnasium. With a touch of relief, Akaashi bows briefly towards Semi and then turns to follow. But he only makes it a few steps before Semi calls after him, his voice loud,

“Akaashi, was it? I’ll look forward to seeing you on court." His hands come together to clasp loosely in front of him. “Good luck. You and your ace.”

If the remark is meant as a thinly veiled jib, Akaashi doesn’t pick up on it, and only nods with as much polite sincerity as he can. Then he’s jogging to catch up with Bokuto, dodging through the crowds again as they make their way to join the rest of the team, courtside this time.

“I don’t like him,” Bokuto grouses, thrusting his hands into the pockets of his track pants. “I don’t like Shiratorizawa. We gotta beat ‘em next match– especially Ushiwaka!”

“You kept making him mad, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi says, pointed.

“Yeah, well–” Bokuto mutters something under his breath. Then he frowns, as if a sudden thought occurred to him. “Hey, why were you talking to him anyway? You shouldn’t mess around with the enemy.”

“I–” Akaashi begins, and then he snaps his mouth shut. But Bokuto's gaze turns curious upon him and it's too late to take the words back, so he continues, finishing reluctantly, “I thought he looked….like you."

As he thought, Bokuto’s reaction is indignant to say the least. “He looks nothing like me! I’m taller and better.”

“Yes, you are taller.” Akaashi chooses not to comment on the latter half of that statement.

There's a brief lull between them, as the rest of Fukurodani come into view, already waiting; Konoha waves at them, hollering, with the third years looking somewhat disgruntled with their late appearance – Akaashi quickens his steps.

“Though," Bokuto suddenly says, musing. "He did kinda look like you."

“What?”

“Well,” Bokuto says, rubbing the back of his neck. He sounds embarrassed. “I didn’t see you at first. Thought he was you from the back, right? I saw his hair, but it was all shadowy and it looked like yours. Sort of.”

Akaashi stares, before shaking his head. “I’m just glad you didn’t jump on him then," he says, in a rueful tone. He doesn’t want to imagine the look on Semi’s face, had Bokuto decided to pounce on him under that false assumption.

“I don’t do that!”

“You’ve done it before, Bokuto-san–”

Then they’re at the marshalling area, with the coach walking over to them and Akaashi carefully files the entire incident in the back of his mind for now. He has other things to think about, without being occupied with the thought of Shiratorizawa’s setter.

At least, until they meet again on court.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

(The whistle blows one final time, and the scoreboard changes to read Shiratorizawa’s win.

Akaashi lines up with the rest of them, swallowing sharp disappointment as he walks up to the edge of the net, still stretched high across the court.

“Good game,” Semi says under his breath, when he reaches his hand under the net. This time, there’s an odd twist to the faint smile he wears. Not kind in sympathy, but not smug with victory – just wry, perhaps. “You played well,” he adds, mildly.

Akaashi fixes his own face into a polite smile. “I didn’t expect to be made starting setter,” he says honestly, before tipping his head. “Good game.”

Semi snorts, barely audible, but it rings as more amused than dismissive. “Good luck next year,” he says.

With that, he turns and strides off court with the rest of his team.

Akaashi turns the other way, head held high, and does the same.)

**Author's Note:**

> Vaguely inspired by [this](http://supercookie55.tumblr.com/post/122043113140/their-lost-son). 
> 
> This might get jossed if we find out later that Semi does not have white and black streaks in his hair. Either way, I wanted to see Akaashi and Semi (and Bokuto) interact with each other, and seeing as Fukurodani and Shiratorizawa have no doubt met at Nationals, I thought this might be an interesting way to explore that. And let's be honest, Akaashi and Semi might be some of the prettiest setters around. If they ever appear in the same manga panel, I might implode. 
> 
> Comments and kudos always appreciated. On [Tumblr](http://arsenicjay.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](http://twitter.com/arsenicjay).


End file.
